


Someone worth saving

by Prettygirlgraves



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Sexual Abuse, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 19:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6207475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prettygirlgraves/pseuds/Prettygirlgraves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma Swan works every week for the helpline that saved her life. Late one cold winter night, when an anxious woman calls the line, she feels an unexplainable connection to her. Will she be able to save her from her demons, or will she be too late?</p><p>// Oneshot currently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone worth saving

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all, it's me!
> 
> I started writing this after the idea popped into my head, and I don't think I've read anything with this premise. I know I haven't updated my other fics in a while, but I haven't had much time with school work and I'm just super stressed out. I'll try and update as soon as possible. 
> 
> Anyway, I wrote this as a one shot so far, but hopefully if I get some positive feedback this can turn into a short multi chapter fic? Please leave a review if you want me to continue. 
> 
> All mistakes are mine. By the way how awesome was 'Souls of the departed,' I loved it!
> 
> I hope you enjoy, and be prepared for angst!

Emma Swan both loved and hated her job at the same time. She knew she shouldn't allow it to control her life in the way it did, but she just could help it. If a call went well, she would be smiling a huge ass smile all the way home to her crappy little Storybrooke apartment; still a ghost of a smile on her lips as she snuggled down for sleep.

If a call went badly, her heart sunk in a way that she couldn't quite prepare herself for each time for the way her breath hitched as the line went dead mid sentence. 

It was with those mixed feelings of anxiety that she went to and from to work, her blonde curls tied back into a simple pony tail as she walked down the street from her car parking space in her old, red leather jacket that she wouldn't ever put down to rest. It was already dark, the cold, frosty winter taking it's toll on the small amount of daylight they had left in Maine. It was only 8pm and it was pitch black outside. The darkness gripped at her chest, but the centre wasn't far, only a few houses away. She smiled in relief as she walked into the centre, the light and heat radiating off it felt so welcoming, homelike. 

"Evening folks," she said with a smile, attempting to be cheery as she walked in through the door. A few people shushed her with their fingers, their hands covering half of their headsets as they talked soothingly to some poor soul on the end. The fact of the matter was, Emma worked for a helpline. People could call and simply talk and be phatic for an hour or so about the weather or anything they fancied. Emma almost preferred these mundane calls. It was usually older people, lonely people with long grown up children who didn't think to add them into their new family unit. In fact most of the time, Emma liked these calls; she met a couple of nice folks, some she had even visited personally if she had developed a relationship with them. She almost wished these were all the calls she ever had. Almost.

The other kinds of calls were a little more heartbreaking, a little more emotional for Emma. Some people called because they were self harming, about to have a panic attack, or even contemplating suicide. The last one hit Emma like a rock every time. They reminded her of herself, not only of what she once was, but how far she had come. It was this very helpline that had convinced her not to end her own life. The blonde herself hadn't exactly had the best of upbringings. Her life was full of foster families, one after another; most promising a permanent, loving home. The worst part was, not all had promised anything. She had mingled with drink, drugs, anything she could lay her hands on, stolen from some particularly bad foster parents who hadn't given a shit about her. She played with her life as if it was nothing more than a simple pen- easily replaceable. 

One night, it had gotten too much. The music had in the club had gotten that little too loud, the drink making things blurred and the drugs giving her unusual black spots and visions she couldn't quite understand. The things that seemed so little usually under the drink, piled up sky high, pitch black, until she couldn't seem to see any light any more. Emma had called the number because she had stumbled by a youth hostel, well it's porch and the contents of her stomach to be exact. As she lifted her head from the floor, she had seen a pamphlet for the centre. She saw the number and thought, why the hell not, what had she got left to lose?

The person on the other line had calmed her down, stopped her from doing something she might've regretted. The kindness of that one person had stopped her from taking her own life, from destroying the bit of good in herself that she had left. From that day on, she'd stayed clean, with the occasional relapse but she'd walked on a good path, a path that had gotten her where she was today. 

She blinked back into the present, now sitting at her desk, adjusting a headset on top of her messy waves. She wondered what tonight would be like, who would call? She met so many interesting people through this, but more importantly, she met people in need. And she tried to help, she goddamn tried her hardest which was what she tried to remind herself when a call didn't go so well. 

The phone rang with a sharp trill, interrupting her thoughts; signalling her work had just begun. 

"Hello, my name is Emma. How can I help you?"

\----------

20 people later, containing 4 pensioners, 6 men wanting a quick fuck, and 3 prank calls, only a few had been ones she could actually help out on. She stifled a yawn as she terminated the last call with a smile. She had managed to calm a young man down out of a panicked state, and persuaded him to go back to his parents. It had gone better than expected and, she had even got a thank you from him which was nice considering not many ever ended with one. 

She was just about to finish, it was gone midnight at the centre and her shift had actually finished at 12. She sighed with relief at the thought of her bed, her pillows, her duvet. Her blonde curls were a little ruffled in her long tail as she stretched out her arms, yawning loudly at her desk. Slipping on her jacket, she leaned back into her black leather chair.

"Night Ems," her brunette friend Ruby called, waving to her from the door. This service closed between 1 and 4am. It wasn't ideal, hell Emma even volunteered to work longer but it just wasn't possible with funds. 

"Night Rubes, see you later," she said with a grin. Ever since she'd met ruby, they'd hit it off straight away. They were both stubborn but enjoyed having a good time. She sat and mused over her time at the centre. She had made many good friends such as Ruby, graham, Killian. But right now, all those thoughts just blurred into one huge image of her queen sized bed at home. 

One of the phones on her desk rang suddenly, breaking through her soft thoughts of comforting bed. 

'Damn it,' she muttered to herself, but her heart fluttered deep in her chest. Just one more, one more and then she would go home. 

'Hi, Storybook helpline, how can I help?'

'Uh...hi,' she heard a rich voice stutter from the other line. Her nerves and instincts kicked in all at once; she could already tell something about this call was far from wanting a chat about the weather.

'Hello," the blonde said a little more softly. "What can I do for you?"

'I...I don't, it doesn't matter I shouldn't have called,' the woman stuttered, but Emma could hear a thick anxiety in her voice that she couldn't ignore.

"No, I'm glad you called," Emma insisted soothingly. "I'm Emma, what's your name?" She inquired gently. 

"I don't think I want to tell you that," she said, sounding almost frightened as she whispered from wherever she was. This was going to be a hard one, but for some reason Emma had her whole heart invested in this woman, something about her voice, just something. 

"Well, that's okay. You don't have to," the blonde reassured. "We don't even have to talk about anything. You could just tell me about the weather or something."

"Do people do that a lot?" 

"You'd be surprised how many people want to talk to me about the weather," the blonde replied with a chuckle, but her heart wasn't in it, not really. 

"Oh," was all the other woman merely replied. A sniffle came from the line, and Emma couldn't quite tell if the woman had begun to cry. 

"Are you okay?" she found herself asking hurriedly, with anxiety in her voice. She cursed herself. Never show anxiety, only calm and and a voice of reason or a lot of people freaked on her. 

"Do you think that if I was, I would be calling?" 

"No I guess not, but a lot of people just call to talk to someone. You could be lonely."

"I am lonely, in a way," she whispered, almost hauntingly that dug it's way even deeper into Emma's heart. Who was this woman? And why did she affect her so much? 

"Okay, what makes you say that?' Emma questioned lightly.

"I don't have any friends," she mumbled after a slight pause. Emma could almost feel the other woman's cheek's blush; she didn't know why she felt such a connection. 

"I don't have many either. But am I right in thinking that's not the reason for your call? Not really anyway." 

"Would you believe me if I said it was?" The woman replied softly, her voice seemingly lacking any joy. 

"I can tell when anyone is lying. That's not the reason," Emma replied, her voice still forced into a tone that sounded calming. 

"No, it's not why I called," the woman said with another snuffle and a resigned sigh, made crackly from the line reception. 

"Would you like to talk to me about that?" Emma asked hesitantly, scared of the answer.

There was a long, pause, so quiet it was almost deafening as she waited for the woman to say something, anything. 

"Hello?" She repeated after 30 seconds of silence. She knew the woman wasn't gone, she could hear her deep gravely breathing from her lungs, as if she was finding it all too hard to take a simple breath and relax.

"Hello," the woman returned, her simple hello trembling.

"Everything you say here is confidential unless, I think you're a danger to yourself, others, or when you want me to repeat what you say to someone else," Emma rattled off.

"You couldn't say anything anyway, you don't even know who I am."

"I could guess."

"You know who I am?" She questioned, sounding almost frantic. Emma heard her breathing escalate. 

"No, I don't," she answered, trying to keep her tone warm but sensible. The voice of reason. 

The other woman's breathing slowed from the other side. The blonde listened intently, but that was all she could hear. She sounded so alone, so frightened. It made her feel sick to think of what this woman could be so afraid of.

"If I tell you some things will you promise not to tell anyone?" She said finally, her voice wobbling. 

"Cross my heart."

"Emma..." She said in return with a sigh, exasperatedly anxious. Emma knew she shouldn't make half jokes, not like this but she couldn't help herself. 

But for some strange reason Emma liked the sound of her name on her lips despite how foreign they sounded. Even with the muffling of the phone, she could hear a beautiful voice shining through. It sounded cracked however, like she'd been talking way too long for too many years and lying about everything in every sense of her words. 

"This helpline is confidential. You can tell me anything."

"Okay..."

"It's going to be okay, whatever you tell me. It's all going to be just fine."

"Not it's not," she snapped suddenly, her breathing accelerated from what Emma could hear. 

"It is, no matter what happens. You...We can get through this." Emma hedged. This woman was dangerously close to hanging up and it scared Emma more than she imagined possible. 

"We?"

"Yes, we," she affirmed.

"You're just doing your job. When I end this call you'll just go home, get on with your life and forget about me," she whispered, sounding so painfully small a splinter of Emma's heart chipped off. 

"I don't think I'll ever forget about you," Emma replied honestly. She'd never felt so strongly about a caller before. 

"Really?"

"Really."

Emma waited a while for the other woman to begin speaking, but no sound came. 

"Hello?" She repeated for the third time.

"I...yes hello."

"You don't have to be afraid. I won't judge you for anything."

"You probably will."

"I can't, it's a rule. A rule for the centre but also a rule to myself. I try and live by it," Emma replied.  
"But trust me, please."

"I don't know you."

"You don't need to know me," Emma replied. "I'm not very interesting to be honest."

She fingered a pen on the desk but it slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. As she waited for the woman's reply, she picked it up and carefully set it back on the desk.

"How can I trust you if I don't even know you?"

"My name is Emma," she said slowly. Everything she knew had been wiped immediately. For a second she thought she'd forgotten her own name. "I live in Storybrooke Maine. I've been working here for a few years now because someone saved my life and I wanted to help people like me."

"People like you?" The woman inquired.

"People in need."

"Oh."

There was another long pause on the crackling line and she was about to say hello for the fourth time but the woman's first word interrupted her intake of breath.

"I'm calling because...I am in a bad place right now and...I can't think of any options or ways to get out except one." 

Her voice got quieter and quieter as she spoke, and Emma's stomach got higher and higher as her anxiety rocketed through the roof.

"What do you mean by that exactly?" Emma asked quietly. But in her heart she knew exactly what she meant. 

"I mean I...I don't really want to keep going in this way."

"Are you considering suicide?" Emma asked tenderly, trying not to portray her frantic breaths. 

"No...ah...yes I guess so," the woman whispered, reluctant to spit the words out of her mouth.

"I need you to tell me your name honey, so I can send help," Emma said, keeping her voice leveled when in reality every nerve in her body was exploding. 

"I can't tell you that. He'll find out I just-..."

"Who will find out?"

"Sorry, no one." She replied quickly. Too quickly for Emma's liking. The red button in her mind began to flash like a fire engine in her head. 

"Are you sure about that?"

"I...no."

"Who is it that you're worried about?"

"My...my husband." 

Right of course, she was married. She cursed herself silently. For some reason this made her heart sink more than she expected. She didn't know this woman at all and she was already crushing? She had known her all of 30 minutes? Get a grip, Swan. 

"People can be a lot more accepting that we think. I'm sure he'll love and support you no matter what," Emma continued despite herself. 

"No...that's not what I...I mean..."

"What do you mean then?" Emma persisted. Maybe this connection she was feeling to the woman was nothing more than a hormonal tired mess. Besides, a husband in the picture made things a lot more complicated as Emma tried to set out the woman's position. Cogs whirred in her head as she tried to fit the jigsaw together, piece by fractured piece. 

"I mean he won't accept it," she continued.

"Why wouldn't he? You seem like a ...great person," Emma mumbled. Surely you can combat it together? Marriage is love right?"

"I don't love him!" She snapped, her voice a ferocious snarl down the phone. 

"Oh shit...I mean, sorry. I should've thought," the blonde cussed. This conversation was taking a turn for the worse.

"Are you unhappy with your relationship?" Emma asked, hoping to prompt a response.

"Unhappy? Of course I am I don't love him! How could I?" The woman seemed to have snapped, her words were bitter and cold like rusty metal tainting her beautiful lips (or as Emma pictured them to be.) 

"Would you like to talk about your relationship? Have you tried counselling?"

"No," she replied, suddenly all soft and sad again like before. He doesn't...it's functional, it's fine."

"But you're not happy?"

"No."

"Why?" Her stomach churned a little as scenarios fitted through her mind like angry birds. Mustn't assume. 

"My mother made me marry him. I wanted to marry for love,' she said almost nonchalantly except a hint of sadnesses that coated her words. 

"Your mother made you marry him? What the fuck does that even still exist?" Emma almost shouted. Crap once again she had blown her attempt at a calming demeanor. This was sure going great. But seriously who made their fucking daughter marry someone? 

"My mother has power like you couldn't imagine," the woman said. The deep rooted fear in her voice startled and jumped Emma's own into action.

"It doesn't make it right."

"No, perhaps not. But she was doing what she thought was best."

"What? By marrying you to a man you don't love?" Emma asked, frustrated by this woman's logic. 

"Yes."

"What's he like?"

"My husband?"

"Yeah. What makes you unhappy in the relationship?"

"He...he's okay."

"You can tell me anything. It will be fine," Emma reassured. 

"He probably even knows I called already even though I'm in the middle of nowhere. He has people everywhere."

Fuck...Emma swore under her breath. This was turning into something she wasn't sure she could handle.

"You need to call someone, tell someone about th-"

"He owns everyone, there's no one to tell."

"Even you?" Emma whispered quietly, holding her breath but she didn't even notice. 

"It's my duty...as a wife to provide...pleasure," she whispered. At the last word her voice cracked and she began to sob.

"Please. Tell me your name," is all Emma can say because she doesn't know what else to. In fact she didn't think shes capable of anything else. Who in hell was this woman? 

"He doesn't own me," the blonde added quickly.

"I can't," she repeated through heaving sobs. "I just can't do this anymore."

"You don't have to stay with a man who is abu-"

"Don't say that word," the woman pleaded. Emma's head pounded like a drum because this was just so much all at once, too much to take in. Too much pain for one person to deserve. 

"At least let me come and get you. Where are you?" Emma asked frantically.

She was still wearing her jacket but even the thick leather warmth didn't stop the shivers and the shaking that radiated over her whole body. 

"I don't know."

"Are you sure? How did you get there?"

"Walked. I don't know. I don't know what to do."

"Please tell me your name."

"No," she repeated firmly with her sobs still filling the line.

"Please."

"Please Emma. Just stop. I can't do this."

"Tell me your name," she asked again, oh so softly and gently it wouldn't even imprint on butter.

"Please, don't make me."

She heard the pleas of a woman who had no fight left in her. And it was oh so scary.

"Would it matter so much if I knew?"

"You might figure out who I am."

"Would that be such a bad thing?" Emma questioned.

"Yes," is all the quiet reply Emma heard.

"My name is Emma. Just tell me your name, sweetheart please." She didn't know why she felt like using a term of endearment, but it felt necessary. 

"Regina," she whispered. And it's such a beautiful name she should've guessed but it's so much more, it's so far from- she's so far from mundane. She is a queen.

"Hello Regina," she whispered after a few seconds. 

"Hello Emma."

"Need me to pick you up?"

"Why would you do that?"

"I don't know, I'm worried about you."

"Don't worry. I...don't want you to feel like that," Regina stuttered.

"No, it's fine," Emma replied, hoping she sounded genuine. 

"Can you see any lights or anywhere you could tell me to get to?"

"You don't have to get me. I can walk."

"In the middle of the night? Christ Regina I don't think so."

"I don't think helpline people normally come and meet people like me."

"Yeah? Well I'm not normal okay?"

"Okay..."

"Right. So what do you see?"

"Uh I see a garage I think? I don't know it's kind of dark."

"You need to be a bit more specific."

"I don't know I mean I walked for about...maybe 2 hours time blurring a little lately."

"Don't you have blisters?" Emma asked, concerned not only for her mental health, but physical. She must've sustained some injury.

"I...oh," the woman said."I hadn't noticed them until now."

"I'll find you," the blonde said firmly, anxious to reach her. "Some where out of town?"

"You don't need to."

"I want to."

"Why are you doing this?" Regina questioned.

"I already said why, I -"

"No, I mean really."

"Because you're someone worth saving."

The words slipped out of her mouth so naturally, so effortlessly truthful it almost came as a surprise; but it was indeed true. Maybe she had realized all along. 

"I'm not, trust me I'm not."

Her voice still was so raw and Emma's heart ached so deeply. 

"I'm coming okay? Don't do anything. Don't move."

Her heart thumped in her head as she pounded out of the centre, ignoring the stares of the other people finishing up there. Luckily for her she had a wireless phone and headset which she carried out to her car as quickly as she could.

"You can't come and get me, Emma," she whispered, sobs still wracking her chest. 

"Why ever not?"

"He'll know...he might hurt you," she replied, her voice cracking slightly.

"Surely he'd be glad that you're home Regina?" 

"I don't know. I don't want to go back there Emma. When I...he..."

"He what Regina?" This was more intense than she'd ever thought possible. She was sitting in her car, determined to turn on her exhaust but her hand hovered hesitantly over the key hold. 

"Will he hurt you?" She whispered into the night.

"Probably," a small voice replied from the other end. A bile rose up in Emma's throat and it took everything to stop herself from throwing up on the sidewalk. This was so much, too much.

"Has he hurt you before?"

"It was my fault, I provoked him...I-"

"Regina it is not your fault!" Emma replied, insistent. "It's never your fault."

"I am not an obedient wife," she whispered.

"You shouldn't have to be," the blonde replied with a sigh. A tear slipped out of her blue green eyes before she could stop it as she sat alone, chilled on the leather seats of her car. 

"He's going to be so angry with me."

"You don't have to go home to him, you can leave him you know."

"I can't do that Emma."

"Why the hell not?" The blonde asked angrily, allowing her temper to slip into her speech.

"It's not that simple, like I said, Leo has people everywhere!" She cried, sobs continuing to wrack her body.

"Leo?" Emma questioned. Regina hadn't realized her mistake. She'd let slip a name, a name she never meat to say.

"What?"

"You said Leo, is that your husbands name?" 

"No...I no, sorry I didn't-"

Something in Emma clicked. Regina. She had heard that name before. Regina and Leo...Leopold?

"Leo... in Leopold White? The business guy? The rich one?"

"I..."

"You're his wife."

"No, you must be mistaken, I...I'm not his wife," Regina stumbled on each word, making it even more obvious that it was lies coming out of her mouth.

"Regina."

"Don't say my name like that."

"But you're married to him? You're Regina white?"

She remembered reading it in the paper when they had first been married. She had been so young, and he had been what like 50 odd? Emma remembered her stomach twisting at the time, but simply speaking to the woman made it twist so much she thought her heart would stop altogether. 

"I'm don't want to talk to you anymore."

"You've been married what 5 years? Why have you stayed with him that long?" Emma asked, ignoring the woman's previous statement . She wasn't sure how long her anger could mask the stabbing pain in her heart that kept getting sharper each minute. 

"I don't want to talk."

The woman sounded closed off, hard. But Emma could hear the break in her voice despite how hard she had tried to prevent it from breaking through. 

"Don't be like that Regina, I'm here to help."

"You can't help me. No one can."

"I can. Just let me help you, we can get through this."

"I can't do this anymore, Emma." She sounded so hopeless Emma even muffled a sob coming from her mouth by tightly pressing her lips together. 

"Yes you can," the blonde replied more softly. "I believe in you."

"Don't make me go back."

"I can come pick you up," Emma said soothingly. She was dangerously close to having a dead line if she didn't act soon. The problem was, she didn't know what to do at all. 

"You can't do that," Regina sobbed.

"Yes I can. I can just come right over there. You just have to wait a little while. Stay right where you are, and don't move," she reassured.

"I...I have to go back, but I don't want to," the woman replied, her words soft, rubbed raw from crying too long, and for too many years.

"Why sweetheart? Why?"

"I...I'm pregnant," she whispered into the now stagnant air. Emma could barely breathe as she registered the woman's words.

"We can deal with it," she insisted after a moment. "You don't have to make any decisions yet Regina. But a baby isn't safe in that environment," she insisted, her safety training kicking in at last.

"He wouldn't hurt the baby," the woman replied, but Emma knew even Regina could tell she was lying to herself.

"Really?"

"If I told him...he might change, he might be a better person."

"You don't know that for sure. You're in danger, and so is your child's life. I can't ignore that. I need you to tell me where you are."

"I already said I don't know!" The woman finally snapped, her breaths ragged as if gasping for air; as if she was drowning. 

"I don't know what to do," the blonde replied out loud.

"Don't do anything. I'm fine dear," Regina replied, her voice fully hardened, her mask attempting to force its way in place.

"You don't have to pretend with me, I'm here to help," Emma pleaded, the words tumbling out of her mouth now so much so they hurt; she didn't even know where they were coming from. 

"You can't help me. No one can. I'm just...alone."

"That's not true Regina, I'm-"

"What do you know hmm? You don't know anything!" She spat into the phone. She had all of a sudden turned from a crying wreck into a fire breathing Demon and Emma wasn't sure which was worse.

"I understand more than you think," Emma said slowly, keeping her voice as neutral and as calming as possible.

"You know what it's like to be in a trapped marriage? Where your husband beats you every day, makes you have sex with him whenever he feels like it? You know what it's like to live like this and not want to live at all?!" She screamed. Emma's heart was beating so fast it almost stopped. 

"Yes. I can help," she said into the chilled night air.

"Fuck you."

Emma's jaw was left hanging wide open in horror as the line clicked and a long, unforgiving beep echoed out into the night. 

It was dead.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you would like me to continue this! Thanks :)


End file.
